


I just need (someone to be there for)

by Trojie



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Relationship Negotiation, Sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-16
Updated: 2012-07-16
Packaged: 2017-11-10 02:55:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/461468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trojie/pseuds/Trojie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leading means a lot of things, like listening, and adapting and sometimes not getting mad when you want to. Mostly it means helping, though. What Steve forgets is that that can cut both ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I just need (someone to be there for)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'No Way' by Pearl Jam. Beta-read by tourdefierce, who made sure there was a story, and immoral crow, who made sure it was written in English. Both of them are therefore now my heroes.

Just because he's the one _with_ a rank, doesn't mean Steve should outrank anyone else. But they all treat him like he's their leader, even the ones who don't want a leader. It's one thing in action, it's entirely different mid-afternoon on a quiet Saturday when Steve's in sweatpants and not thinking about much other than his late lunch.

'Just a heads-up,' says Tony, coming into the kitchen where Steve's constructing himself a sandwich, 'what with you being the guy who needs to know where everyone's heads are at; Thor and Jane? No longer an item.'

Steve puts down the jar of pickles. 'Is this an official briefing or have you been eavesdropping on people again?' He tries hard to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, but the level of invasive surveillance Tony built into this place, apparently just because he _could_ , is excessive.

Tony puts up his hands in a 'whoa, whoa' gesture. 'Thor told me,' he says. 'It was mixed up in a heartfelt plea for a flagon of mead, which you should know is really hard to source at four am even for me, but he told me and he didn't tell me it was a secret.' He shrugs. 'I figure that's the kind of thing you need to know since you're our glorious leader and all.' He reaches for the drinks cabinet, even though it's barely four in the afternoon. 

'Thank you,' says Steve, and waits. If there's one thing he's learnt from Pepper in his time living in the Tower, it's that if you just wait, and maybe raise your eyebrow, Tony will keep talking. He can tell from Tony's tone of voice that there's more to this. He just has to wait for it.

And sure enough; 'It sounds like it was all mutual,' Tony says, leaning against the countertop and peering meditatively into his whiskey. 'But I get the feeling Dr Selvig may have had a bit of a protective Papa Bear moment, y'know?'

'I don't, actually,' Steve replies, putting the lid back on the pickle jar and capping his sandwich with the second layer of bread. It's odd, talking about relationships with Tony, because he's got the same easy, fast-talking manner Howard did but Tony's his son. If Peggy'd ever taken Howard seriously, Tony could have been their son. And now he's older than Howard was when he and Steve first met. It puts things into an odd kind of perspective.

Tony takes a sip from his glass, clearly relishing the act of having the drink more than the drink itself. It's a prop - Steve knows that well enough now. 'Think about it. Thor's a magnet for everything that goes bump in the night in this galaxy, and Jane's the only daughter of Selvig's dead best friend. Would you blame Selvig if he made a couple of comments in Thor's ear, to protect her?'

'He warned Thor off,' says Steve, getting it. 

'Attaboy, Cap. You ever tried guilt-tripping the God of Thunder? He's like a puppy that messed on the carpet. Tell him he was endangering his girlfriend by being around her and what do you think he'd do?'

'That's unfair,' says Steve, frowning. 

Tony shrugs. 'Look at it from Selvig's point of view. If Thor stays away from Jane, maybe Loki will too.' He starts out of the kitchen, probably back downstairs to his lab, grabbing a bag of coffee beans from the drawer they're kept in.

As Tony passes him, Steve says, 'So what's Thor going to do?'

Tony shrugs. 'Whatever he wants?'

This is the last thing Steve needs.

***

Someone's been setting fires, and they're getting worse. The Avengers have been involved since whole buildings started getting torched, ones with important things, or important people, inside them, and since none of the Fire Department's experts could figure out exactly what was causing the fires - it's some new accelerant, or something. Bruce and Tony have spent hours in the lab on it. This isn't normal, it isn't natural. This isn't just some kid with a can of gas. 

Fires are showy, is the problem. They attract trouble, like the press.

If Captain America had his way, you would go to the press when you wanted to say something - they wouldn't be allowed to chase you around. And they definitely wouldn't be allowed to ask you completely irrelevant things for 'human interest' when you're standing in the middle of a recent battleground, either.

Iron Man, still mostly in the suit, ushers this one away with a promise of an interview and brunch with Captain Rogers at some point in the nebulous future that Steve has absolutely no intention of going through with. 'C'mon, Cap,' he says, trying to steer Steve off as well, but Steve doesn't want to be steered. 

'People _died_ here today,' he says, shrugging Tony off. 'Don't they care?'

'They want to tell the world,' Bruce points out. He's half-behind some masonry, hurriedly getting into what Tony calls the 'emergency pants'. 'That's … kind of like caring.'

'I guess I just don't like vultures,' Steve says, folding his arms across his chest. 'Can't they let us get the clean-up squad in and notify next-of-kin before they start swooping in?' He badly wants to pull off his cowl and wipe his forehead. There's smoke stinging his eyes and sweat trickling down from his hairline. But if he does and someone snaps a photo - S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't like that kind of thing, except for Tony, who kind of shot everyone in the foot in his very first press conference. Steve has seen the footage. 'I am Iron Man,' indeed. 

It's better if everyone sticks to their alter egos in public, those of them that can, at least.

Thor, face smudged with soot, is scowling. 'I agree with the Captain,' he says, glaring at Tony and at the reporters behind the police line equally. 'It is not decent. Have these Midgardians no respect for their dead?' So at least there's one person in Steve's corner. 

'No-one's saying that,' says Hawkeye, clearly aware of the rest of the reporters who are still behind the police cordon. 'And we should get out of the way of the clean-up crew ourselves.' People in police and ambulance uniforms are starting to come through now with gurneys and other equipment. Clint's right. The Avengers have done their jobs. The higher-ups know where to find them if they want a debrief. 

Happy chooses that moment to pull up in a limousine. Steve hates that as well, even though he knows it's just the fact that there aren't that many vehicles you can fit six people in interesting costumes in. So he piles in after Bruce and gets jammed into his seat by Thor climbing in last and shutting the door. 

Out of the window, Steve can see crash carts getting let into the disaster zone. Someone who isn't in uniform breaks the cordon and runs to a body lying in the street only to get hustled away. The reporters are quick to converge on them, and Steve can't help but notice the way Thor's hand clenches angrily around Mjolnir's grip. 

Natasha is the first one to break the silence. 'Do we know what the casualty rate was?' she asks, sounding rough from the smoke. 

'JARVIS is accessing police reports as they come in,' Tony says, and he sounds duller than usual, like he's thinking something through.

'Looked like more casualties than fatalities, at least,' says Clint. 'I think more than a few of the civilians were playing dead. Sensible,' he adds dourly. 

'Anything I inflicted?' Bruce asks quietly, hunched, as always, next to Steve like he's trying to reduce the amount of space he takes up. The thought strikes Steve that they should probably add an emergency shirt in with the emergency pants, for dignity's sake. 'There were a couple of buildings -'

'JARVIS says they were empty,' says Tony fiercely before he can finish that sentence. 'It was a construction-site. Don't go there, Banner.'

Steve watches them with his commander's eye, sees that Bruce is hurting but that Tony's there for him, and approves of it. But under the concern for - not his men, his _teammates_ \- is a sick feeling that Steve is starting to get used to. Civilian casualties in wartime were not something he had to deal with - most of his ops were deep in enemy territory, and _everyone_ was the enemy where they sent him, unless they were on his side. HYDRA tended to use POWs for labour, and they could generally take care of themselves in a fire-fight once you'd freed them. There was no such thing as a bystander.

Steve never wants to get used to the sight of defenseless people getting caught in the crossfire. 

No-one says anything else the whole ride home. But when they get out of the limo, once the others have all gone past up into the tower, Thor thumps a hand on Steve's shoulder and says, 'I mislike what happened there as much as you, Captain. There is no honour in the death of the innocent. But we did well this day. More lived than died, and those who survive would thank you. You know I speak the truth.'

Steve doesn't know which of them he's trying to convince.

***

There's a lot to be said for a punching bag. You can sew it up again afterwards, for a start.

'So this is where you go when battle is done,' says Thor from the doorway of the gymnasium. Steve doesn't bother to look up from the worn spot on the leather that he's aiming for. 'This is no warrior's celebration, my friend.'

'What have I got to celebrate?' Steve asks, huffing the words out between his teeth and between jabs. 'I failed, Thor. We're supposed to _save_ people. But they're still getting hurt. I guess I'm not the perfect soldier they tried to make me into.' 

Thor catches the bag, holds it still while Steve pummels it, but doesn't try to stop him. This is why Steve likes the guy. 'Perfection leaves no space for anything else,' the Asgardian says in his deep, slow voice. 'It will take the joy from you.'

'I don't fight for joy,' Steve points out, jab-jab-jabbing at the bag, hair flopping into his face, feet still dancing even though the bag's as still as stone in Thor's big hands. 'I fight to win. I thought you'd understand that. Don't they call you the god of war?'

'I court war for the joy of it, true enough,' says Thor. 'Have you never felt the love of a fight course strong in your veins, Captain? Fight for fighting's own sake and victory will find you. Fight for the victory itself and it will slip away from you like smoke, and you will have no joy, no win, and no life beyond the battle's end.' He looks around the bag, and the movement catches Steve's eye, makes him look away from his target for the first time. 'Tell me true, is there nothing like that for you in our work?' He looks worried. 

'I just want to help people,' says Steve, gripping the bag in his wrapped hands, fingers almost mittened together from being curled into fists so long. 

Thor steps around the weight of leather and sand between them, and pries Steve's fingers loose, pushes him to stand away from it. 'You do,' he says. 'We all do. But afterwards, what is it that you do? The others all find diversions; Natasha and Barton go to taverns to play their game of pond -'

'It's called pool, Thor,' Steve interrupts, because he feels as if he's getting a pep-talk here, and he's had enough of those to last a lifetime. 

'The name is of no consequence - they seek respite and the company of friends. They find the reasons that they fight, and remind themselves. But you come here. Steven,' Thor says carefully, like Steve's Christian name is something to be gentle with, 'even Banner who does not trust himself with celebration goes back to his numbers and mechanisms and finds solace in them. But you come here.'

'Where else is there for me?' Steve says. 'All I've got is the punching bag.' Thor's big hand comes up to touch softly at his neck, at the short hair that curls behind his ear. 

Steve freezes, nearly pushes him away, but the feeling of being held, even just five pressure points of strong fingers on the nape of his neck, is soothing at the same time it kicks Steve's heart-rate up a notch from unfamiliarity. Steve's used to being careful and keeping himself in check, but - Thor's palm flattens against his skin, and there he is, bigger and stronger than Steve. Safe. This is safe, for both of them.

Steve's hands, still wrapped tight, are at Thor's hips and he doesn't remember deciding to put them there, but it feels good, comforting, to hold tight to someone rather than to just mindlessly hit something that can't even hit him back. 'It's all I have,' he says, maybe to himself as well as to Thor.

'You know that is not so,' says Thor, and kisses Steve on the brow, and presses their foreheads together, both hands now cradling the base of Steve's skull. It makes Steve tremble, a little; gentleness like this. He wants to blame it on the hour of pounding the punching bag, but that would be a lie. 

When was the last time someone who wasn't an Army medic or an enemy touched him?

Steve relaxes into Thor's hold, and the Asgardian keeps talking. 'If training is what you desire then spar with me, Captain. If you truly wish to be left alone, I will go. But,' and Thor breathes a heavy sigh, searches Steve's face for something. 'Steven. Steve. _Captain_. You are a warrior like myself, and we are newly-come from our latest battlefield. There is something you need, and I would be the man to give it to you.'

For just a moment, there's a stillness between them, and Steve doesn't know who decides it, who moves, but Thor's kiss is as strong as the rest of him, as kind as his words and as generous as his heart. He pulls them together and holds tight, and Steve can't help but do the same, wanting touch, wanting _contact_.

Thor's hands ripple down Steve's back as they kiss. Steve tries to get in a breath of air and only succeeds in opening his mouth against Thor's, feeling the bite of stubble at the corner of his mouth before Thor licks his way in and distracts him. 

There's a hand on Steve's ass, pulling him in close, and that alerts him hazily to the fact that he has both of his hands on Thor's waist, and his fingers are dipping below the waistband of his pants. When Thor's hand comes round to palm the hardness at Steve's groin, it makes his arousal flare up from a buzz into a burn, makes him moan.

'Do you see? This is a warrior's comfort,' Thor says, breathing hard when they break for air. 'When all else seems lost to us, we have our brothers, do we not? Steven, the people you loved may be gone but you are not alone.' He tilts his head, searching Steve's expression. 'Is this not the way of the warriors of Midgard? To be that which their fellows need?'

Steve almost says _no, this isn't how we do things_ , but he saw things in the 107th that would make it a lie. 'We weren't supposed to,' he says instead. 'Not like this, anyway. But men did.'

He turns aside a little, hands still fisted in the hem of Thor's shirt, because he doesn't want to see his reaction. Thor's lips move against his temple though. 'Men did,' he says. 'But not you.'

Steve thinks of Peggy, then of Bucky and his commandos. 'No,' he says. 'Not me.'

_I had a girl, sort of. And I was their commander. And I was used to people not seeing me like that._

'And now?' Thor asks, and Steve can feel the tension in his body, in his breath, as he holds them together, as he _waits_. Steve realises then that Thor doesn't ever wait, unless it's for an order; that when they're fighting Thor will defer to him and that's just what he's doing now; that he can tell that Thor's in this moment with him, all the way, whatever's needed - taking the lead or following Steve's - just like every other time they've faced a challenge together. 

It occurs to Steve that Thor's got reasons, maybe needs comfort of his own, and that helps a little. If Thor can do this for Steve, then Steve can do this for Thor. 

'Show me,' he says more bravely than he feels. 

'You are not the only one of us alone in a strange world,' says Thor. 'This brotherhood, it is all we have.' And he takes Steve back into his arms and kisses him hungrily. Thor's strong, stronger than Steve - it makes Steve shiver - and he stands like a rock, big hands caught at the nape of Steve's neck and the crest of his hip. Thor's so gentle with his strength like this, but he doesn't hesitate, and more importantly, he doesn't ask stupid questions. Steve's had enough cracks about his virginity from Tony. Steve _wants_. And he's a quick study. 

Before he knows it he's up against the gym wall, his shirt is being shoved up over his shoulders, and Thor is murmuring in his ear that he needs to be calm, that they will take care of each other, and Steve thinks _yes_. 

He gets his hands under Thor's t-shirt and pushes. Thor's skin is hot and smooth and Steve wants it against his own. Between them they toss their shirts aside, and find each other's mouths again. Steve's kissed and been kissed before, but not like this, where the other person's pushing him, tasting him, holding him tight. The last person that kissed Steve did it as a flag-waving exercise. This is anything but - this feels deeply private, just between them.

Thor groans in the back of his throat and pushes his hips forward, his knees slotting between Steve's, pushed back against the wall, and he's hard, rutting up against where Steve is as well, and Steve can't help but gasp. 

'This pleases you?' Thor breaks away from Steve long enough to ask. He traces his fingers along the waistline of Steve's pants. 'I wish to please you,' he says, like Steve might get some kind of wrong idea.

'It does. You do,' says Steve, closing his eyes for a moment to try and keep control. 'How do you want to -'

Instead of answering, Thor finds Steve's fly and undoes it, and Steve, catching on, reaches out to do the same. Thor isn't wearing underwear, and he lets his pants drop, steps out of them completely unselfconsciously when they've fallen, and leans closer, grinning softly at Steve as he pushes the waist of Steve's trousers down. 

'May I?' he asks, but Steve decides, to hell with it, and shoves his underwear down over his hips and off himself. He's got no reason to be a wallflower about this, after all. 

Now they're both leaning against the wall side-by-side, and Thor pulls them together until he can get his big, rough hand around both their cocks. 'Like this,' he says, raising an eyebrow in a way that gives it the edge of a question. 

Steve settles his own hand around Thor's, trying to settle the thumping of his heart. 'Like this,' he echoes, and starts Thor's hand moving. His own palms are still wrapped in tape, but he can help.

'There are things we cannot trust to outsiders, no matter how beloved they are,' says Thor, breathing hard with every stroke. 'Our work puts them in danger. But we still need these things.'

Steve holds tight to Thor's shoulder, tries to steady him even though he's hard pushed to do anything but lock his knees and rut against him. 'Whatever you need,' he says, gritting his teeth, hot and sticky and starved of touch. He didn't even realise 'til now, how much he wanted another person to be with him, to understand. 'Thor -'

'Yes,' says Thor, growling low from his belly, twisting his hand with Steve's over the top of it for the ride, the skin between them soft over how hard they are against each other. It's all Steve can do to move with him, little aborted movements of his hips, fierce heat everywhere they touch, all along their bodies. He's reduced to noises because friction and heat and that sudden acceptance of _what this is_ make words hard and Steve was never a words kind of a man anyway. 

It doesn't matter - when Steve can't hold on any longer, Thor swallows his lack of eloquence in another kiss, wet spilling between them, and Steve bites his own lip at that, at the feel of orgasm with someone else.

Afterwards, they slump together against the wall, spent and panting, and don't part for a long time. Eventually though, still carding his hands slowly through Thor's hair, Steve says, 'Tell me why. Why'd you come after me?' 

Thor doesn't look up, or try to shrug him off, even verbally. His fingers clench a little at Steve's side, but he doesn't pretend not to know what Steve's asking. 'I went to Tromso, to see Jane,' Thor says, muffled by Steve's shoulder. 'Fury and Coulson moved her there when Loki - when they thought she might be in danger. Dr Selvig met me there.'

Steve remembers what Tony told him, but he can't not ask. 'And?'

Now Thor does move, almost hurls himself away from Steve. He's angry, and Steve can understand that. He goes to pick up his clothes, lets Thor have his space. 

The Asgardian paces, whirls around, gestures like he's trying to find words. Eventually he ends up almost in the same place Steve was when this whole thing started, except angry and naked.

'And he told me that she is safe, and happy, and that I should leave her be.' Thor lays a punch into the bag that makes it swing like a pendulum. 'My very presence in this realm is a beacon to other races that makes the Earth a target. I swore to protect it. And I will uphold my oath, but it comes at such a price.' He catches the punching bag then, stills it with fists still clenched. 

'It won't be forever,' says Steve lamely.

'It must be,' Thor says stormily. 'I have no right to put her in danger.'

He doesn't look at Steve, still breathing hard into the leather of the bag. Steve walks over to place a hand in the small of Thor's back. 'I know it's difficult,' he starts. And then he hesitates, and says, 'Thor, did you talk to _her_ about this?'

'Dr Selvig said it would be for the best if I did not. He said she was happy, working, and that to disturb her now would disrupt her.' Thor lets go of the bag and turns around. He shrugs. 'I trust him. He is a good friend to her, and has been to me as well.'

Steve doesn't know the doctor, and heaven knows he doesn't want to come between friends. But he thought this didn't sound right when Tony first told him, and now, seeing Thor like this, he knows it. 'Sometimes friends lie to try and protect people,' he says. 'Thor, you need to talk to Jane. If it really is the best thing that you stay away from each other, she needs to be part of that choice. That isn't a decision that you can make on your own. It isn't fair. You don't have the right.'

Thor laughs, sounding hollow in the big empty gym. 'I came to help you,' he says, standing up properly. He's a few inches taller than Steve, which is an old feeling, an odd one, like the past come back haunting. 'I thought to offer you comfort and forget my own sorrow.'

'You and me both,' says Steve. 'Did it work?'

Thor puts on his trousers as he talks. 'For a while,' he admits. 'But I think perhaps you have helped me more. You are right, my friend. I will take this advice of yours, and speak to Jane myself.'

He pulls his shirt on as well. Steve unwinds and rewinds the bindings on his hands, unsure of what he should be doing right now, what the etiquette is. Thor claps him on the shoulder. 'Thank you, Steve,' he says. 'I am in your debt.'

'No problem,' says Steve, shrugging him off with a smile and squaring back up to the punching bag

The noise of the gym door closing behind him rattles in between the thud - thud - thud of Steve hitting the bag again. He feels more relaxed, it's true, and the hard pinch between his brows has gone. But he didn't know he wanted company until he had it, and now it's gone. 

***

Tony, or rather, Stark Industries, has free international calling. Of course. By the time Steve makes it back to the tower, Thor's on the phone and, according to Pepper, has been for an hour and a half. 

'It's just gone midnight in Tromso,' Pepper says, looking up at the clock on the wall. 'I didn't have the heart to tell him. I guess she would have hung up on him if she wanted to go to bed.'

When Thor does reemerge, he's grinning. Tony proposes a toast to the happy couple, and for half an hour they have a little party in the penthouse. Even Bruce comes up from the lab, and Natasha bestows upon Thor a toast in Russian that none of them understand except Clint, who smirks but won't translate. Thor, in return, proposes a toast to friends, and clashes glasses with Steve, leaning against him on the sofa the same way he does when they're packed in the back seat of Tony's limo together.

'How much longer does Jane have on her contract in Norway?' Tony asks, topping Thor's drink up. 'She's working on geomagnetics, yeah?'

'She searches for pathways to other worlds,' says Thor proudly. 'Bridges, such as the one we once had on Asgard.'

'Huh,' says Tony. 'Interesting.'

'Tony. I know what you're thinking,' says Bruce, shaking his head and smiling.

'The roof would support a small telescope,' says Tony defensively. 'I can run the calculations if you really want me to, but you'd think by now you'd trust my working -'

Pepper hides a smile behind the glass in her hand. 'Am I going to be drawing up another research contract with an open budget?' she asks. 'There's only so many of those I can hide in the books, Tony.'

'You would need to ask her,' says Thor. 'I would not presume to speak on her behalf.' He stretches and smiles, one arm landing along the back of the couch.

Steve gets another one of those moments, like _deja vu_. Bruce, Tony and Pepper are still arguing the logistics of both a telescope on the roof and the R &D budget simultaneously, egged on by Clint arguing every point, and Steve's reminded of the commandos when they were off-duty, having a few drinks and a few laughs. Steve mostly used to watch and listen as Jones and Dernier poked fun at each other in French, jammed into some cramped, smoky dive with Bucky's elbow in the dip of his waist. 

Seventy years later, and it's just like old times.

***

With Jane and Thor being 'an item' again, to use Tony's words, and maybe even the possibility of her coming to join them in New York, Steve knows that he's not going to get Thor visiting him in the gym again, not like that, anyway. They both got a bit of a workout out of it, and relieved some of the tension that tends to build up, trying to do good in a world full of bad things. But it won't happen again.

It proved to Steve that he can't keep bottling things up, though. It isn't good for the team, if he's so tight-wound that Thor decided he had to come and do something about it. He needs to deal with that.

So the next time Steve goes back to the gym and the punching bag, after another battle gone bad with casualties and damage, he tries to keep in mind what Thor said about perfection. He tries to find the joy in getting something _right_ that he used to find in drawing, getting down on paper exactly what he saw, the way he saw it. He tries to make every punch perfect, keep his footwork loose and easy and react to the way the bag swings, like he's dancing with it, rather than trying to kill it. After a while it almost becomes like meditation, and that helps.

So when Thor, apparently out of nowhere, plasters himself to Steve's sweaty back and bends to bite at the crest of his neck, Steve nearly gets them both knocked over by not sidestepping the bag as it comes back to meet him. 

'Thor,' he says as calmly as he can, managing to catch the bag with both hands as Thor slips his own hands around to palm the front of Steve's shorts. 'What are you -'

His shock must come out in his voice, because Thor stops moving, even if he doesn't quite lift his hands away. 'Does this not please you?' he asks. 

Whether or not it pleases Steve isn't the point, right now. 'What about Jane?' Steve grits out, trying to will his body not to respond. He's used to it doing what he wants. Unfortunately some parts operate on autopilot. 

Now Thor does remove his hands, and Steve turns to look him in the face, expecting to see the same hard, sad look he'd worn talking about how he put Jane in danger. But instead Thor's expression is one of honest confusion. 'Jane?' he asks. 

'Your girlfriend?' Steve tries.

'She will be visiting here next week. Tony told me that there must be something called an 'interview process' and that she will wish to see the new telescope that he and Bruce are installing on the roof,' Thor says. 'But I do not see -'

'She, uh, she might not appreciate you … kissing other people,' Steve says. _And I'd rather not get shot_ , he adds to himself.

Some of the confusion on Thor's face clears. 'You fear she will think me unfaithful,' he says, like the idea is just dawning on him now.

'Messing around with people who aren't your girlfriend generally counts as unfaithful, yeah,' says Steve, shoving his hands into his pockets because he can't put them anywhere near Thor. 

'But this is not the same,' Thor says, and he still does look kind of confused. 'This is between comrades - this is not how a lady should be courted. It is the difference between a meal with friends and taking a maiden to the banquet-table, surely.' 

'Not everyone would see it that way,' Steve says. 'I'm sorry, Thor.'

'You said that you knew of warrior's friendships amongst your men in times past,' Thor reminds him. 'Do you mean to tell me that I may only do this with you if we are without lovers?'

Steve takes refuge in higher authority. 'I just think you should, uh, talk it over with Jane,' he says. It's kind of weaselling out of having to explain, he knows that, but Thor should really talk to Jane. About all of this. 

'You are a good friend, to be so concerned for my happiness,' says Thor. 'And I will do as you say, to put your mind at rest on the matter. But I swear to you, seeing as you seem not to know for yourself, there is no shame in taking help from your comrades, Captain, nor in helping them in kind. You trust me with your life - do you not trust me with your body? To know when you need release even if you do not?'

Steve doesn't know what to say. 

'Think on it,' Thor advises him. 'But do so in your quarters. You spend too much time in this training-room, Captain.' 

That's probably as close as Thor could ever come to telling Steve he needs an intervention. Steve has to take it at least a little bit to heart. He lets Thor accompany him back to the tower, and shuts himself into his room rather than going up to the penthouse lounge that's become their unofficial gathering place. 

'Release,' he says, feeling a little odd about saying it. It's not a word he's used for ... for that, before, but the way Thor said it, it makes something click in his head. He sits on his bed, which he still makes every morning out of trained habit, despite Tony demonstrating the amazing ability of his housekeeping robots to make hospital corners. His knees fall open unasked. 

It had felt really good, being touched. That's one thing Steve can take away from this.

He has pretty much this whole floor to himself but he still looks around before touching himself through his shorts, and he still bites his lip to stop the noise that wants to come out when he does. Lying back, he shoves the shorts down and away, and takes hold of himself properly. 

There never was much opportunity to do this, not in barracks or in foxholes or tents, anywhere really, because wherever he was, the men were always around him. And it's such a private thing. Steve never thought about doing it with someone else before.

There are a lot of things Steve never thought about, he starts to realise. 

He tightens his grip around himself gently, trying to bring back that feeling of intimacy, how safe he'd felt, like having backup, like being part of something. But as he starts to move his hand and the lust flares back up, he remembers the warmth of Thor's breath against his skin and the way their fingers slotted together. That's where it came in. Not the sex. The touching.

It doesn't take long until he's rolled over, up on his knees, one fist bunched and buried in the mattress, propping himself up while the other hand's between his legs. It takes hardly any time after that for him to come, gasping. 

The shorts get used to wipe up the mess. 

He does feel better, more relaxed, calmer. It makes sense, in a biology class sort of way. But it isn't the same as it was before, in the gym with Thor. He doesn't feel that connection. Steve didn't think to try this, before. He tried drinking, not that it helped. He tried taking himself away from everyone. He didn't think maybe that was entirely the wrong approach.

***

_A week later_

The morning after a tower movie night, the lounge is always a disaster zone. Tony has some kind of weird disc-shaped vacuum cleaner that doesn't need plugging in, or even directions, and that takes care of the popcorn that ends up near the enormous TV screen because Natasha likes to hurl it at oblivious heroines, Bruce likes to hurl it at scientific inaccuracies, and Clint just likes throwing things (in hindsight, 'The Core' was a really bad movie to choose for pretty much everyone on the team) - but the drinks spills and the rearranged furniture need some actual human attention. 

Steve is usually the first one up, so he's usually the one who squares the place away. He's tugging the coffee table back into the centre of the floor when a cough alerts him to the fact that he's not the only person in the room any more. 

Pepper, dressed for a meeting, is holding the door open and ushering in a pretty brunette, also dressed for a meeting but looking like she gets slightly less practice at it than Pepper does. Steve straightens up, nudging the table into place with his foot. 'Good morning,' he says.

'Morning,' says Pepper breezily. 'Captain Rogers, I'd like to introduce Dr Jane Foster, hopefully to be the newest addition to our Research and Development team.'

Dr Foster stretches out a hand to shake, and Steve does so. 'Pleased to meet you,' he says. She's sort of peering at him. He wonders if they've met before, maybe, and then - oh, God, he really shouldn't be this slow, it's not as if the mojitos Tony was pressing into his hand last night could actually have done anything to him. This is _Jane_. Thor's Jane. But before he can say anything stupid, she kind of beats him to it.

'Wow,' she says, 'So you're the guy Thor's -' and then she bites her lip and says, 'I mean, hi. I've heard a lot about you. It's an honour.'

Pepper is far too dignified to actually show interest in Dr Foster's little slip, but Steve has no doubt at all that Tony will hear about it, which means Bruce will hear about it, which means Natasha will hear about it, and Clint will have heard everyone else hearing about it and no-one will have to tell him. If Pepper didn't have the self-control of a saint, Steve's pretty sure she'd be giggling right now. It's in the slant of her shoulders.

'Tony - Mr Stark tells me you're a leader in your field,' Steve says, trying to salvage things. 'I don't know much about physics myself, but I know we're very lucky to have you joining us.'

'Yes, well, I think that's just about enough painfully awkward social interaction for now,' says Pepper briskly. 'Shall we go and inspect the telescope housing, Dr Foster?' 

'Good idea,' says Jane, in a relieved voice. Steve watches them go, and then continues moving the furniture back into place. So much for Thor talking to Jane and making this less awkward. 

'Well, that went well,' says Clint, from the elevator. 'Sorry, there wasn't really a good moment to jump into that one.'

'Yeah, I know,' says Steve, grabbing one end of a sofa.

Clint raises an eyebrow at him, but goes for the other end of the sofa at the same time. 'So what exactly is Thor doing to you?' he asks. 

If Steve drops the sofa, it'll land on Clint's foot. That wouldn't be kind. 

'Don't worry then,' says Clint once they've put the sofa in its right place and Steve still hasn't answered. 'I'd say I won't pry, but,' and he shrugs. 'Information has this way of finding me.'

'It's not like you haven't guessed already,' Steve points out, trying to keep his tone light.

'I do hear things,' Clint admits. He's obviously waiting to hear some more.

'I don't want to talk about it,' says Steve. 'That's still an option in this century, right?'

Clint shuffles a footstool back into place. 'Sure. Would you like to not talk about it over breakfast or something?'

***

Steve is still adjusting to the coffee they have here - it tastes richer and stronger than the coffee he remembers. Also it comes in about seventeen different types and requires a very complicated machine to make, although that might just be because this is Tony's kitchen. Clint makes him something that at least looks like the milky-brown coffee Steve used to drink in the army, and Steve negotiates with the interactive toaster. Eventually Natasha turns up, looking for Clint for sparring practice, and Steve decides to stay put and read a book, for once. 

A week ago he would have been in his quarters again by now, probably ironing something. But he finds himself hoping someone will come by to keep him company. 

The noise of the elevator coming up distracts Steve from his book. He puts a finger in between the pages to mark where he's at and waits for whoever it is to arrive. 

He regrets not hiding away in his room when it turns out to be Jane. Out of habit he stands up as she walks in, book forgotten, and says, 'Hi.' His mom raised him to be a gentleman after all. Her voice in the back of his head points out that gentlemen don't mess around with ladies' boyfriends.

'So, we should lay down some rules,' says Jane, without any kind of introduction. She props one hand on her hip, and looks at Steve as if he's a math problem she's looking forward to solving. 'Sorry about before, by the way.'

'Excuse me?' says Steve, resisting the urge to add 'Ma'am,' the way he often has to with Pepper as well. 'We should -?'

'Rules,' she says again. 'You're a soldier, right? And I'm a scientist. Both of us like rules.'

Steve guesses she's probably right. 'Okay,' he says. 'What rules?' She'll have to give him a clue soon, right? 

'About Thor,' she clarifies. 

'Oh god,' says Steve without thinking. Jane laughs. 'In his defence, he was in a bad place, and I would have never -'

'The way he tells it, you were in a bad place and he wanted to help you out,' she interrupts. 'Look, Steve - can I call you Steve? - I get it. It's okay.'

That can't mean what Steve thinks (hopes) it means. Seventy years ago he essentially got shot at just for being kissed by a forward desk clerk, and he and Peggy weren't even ... Surely things can't have changed that much? 'You do?' he asks lamely. 

Jane squints at him. 'Jeez, sit down,' she says. 'You look like you think I'm going to knee you in the balls or something.'

Steve sits. 'Uh, I was kinda worried, yeah,' he says. 'I thought if we were going to talk about this there'd be more shouting happening.'

'Do you want me to shout at you?' she asks curiously. Both her hands are on her hips now, and she's got her head tilted to one side, and despite the slightly scruffy blouse and trousers and the ponytail, she looks kind of like Peggy when she does that. 

'No,' Steve says, taking refuge in honesty. 'But you'd be within your rights.'

She shrugs and sits down next to him. 'Did Thor tell you he talked to me about this?' she asks. 

'He said he was going to,' says Steve. 'I kind of asked him to.' 

'He said you were worried I'd think he was cheating on me,' she says. 'He was kind of confused.' She pats Steve on the knee and then pulls her hand back as if she didn't mean to do it and has just realised she only just met him. 'I'm guessing Thor told you about how his people have … customs about this kind of thing?'

'Sort of.' Steve shrugs. 'I figured he meant, uh, men having relations with other men. I didn't realise -'

'Yeah. I think Asgardians might not exactly be entirely functionally monogamous,' she says, almost as if she's making a mental note about it. 'I mean, they practice courtship and marriage and stuff, but … their sexual relationships are a bit broader in context than that, it seems.' She stops, and laughs. 'Sorry, I've, um, I've got this friend and she's basically treating Thor like whatever the humanities version of a science fair project is. I guess it's kind of bleeding through.'

There's a brief, awkward silence, and then Steve says, 'So. Rules?'

'Oh, yeah, the rules. Um. You don't like, have feelings for him, do you? I mean, I wouldn't necessarily have a problem with that, I just want to get the parameters set right and all.'

'No, God, no,' says Steve, because that isn't - it isn't like that. 'He's my friend,' he says, shrugging awkwardly. 'I mean, it's not that I don't like him, but not … not like that. I don't want him to be my -'

She interrupts again, not rudely but just as if she's trying to keep hold of a train of thought. 'Boyfriend, no, totally not. Okay. Right. Well, that simplifies some of this down. So,the main rule is you don't try and push me out, yeah?'

Steve stares at her, horrified. 'I would never, ever do that to someone,' he says. 'Ever.'

She smiles at him again. 'I didn't think so, but it's good to have these things codified, right? So. I guess that's it, mostly. We're grown-ups, we can share.'

'Look, Jane,' says Steve, because this is rapidly running off down a rabbit hole he never anticipated. 'I don't get it. Are you telling me you're okay with me occasionally -'

'Screwing with my boyfriend?' she finishes for him. 'Yeah, Steve, I am.' She pats him on the knee again, a bit more deliberately. 'I know how it gets, doing high-stress work with the same people all the time. Okay so maybe my experience is more in the cut-throat world of theoretical physics than in death-defying feats of caped heroism, but y'know what? I've been holed up in a lab for seventy two hours with reams of code that didn't work and a thesis deadline and nothing in my system for forty eight of those hours but shitty free departmental instant coffee, and my advisor was in fucking Rio and not answering emails, and there was this post-doc, and -' 

She takes a breath. 'Okay, that wasn't meant to turn into a deeply personal anecdote, but what the hell. Steve, Thor is your friend and he wants to help you. You guys save the world a lot, and you have to do it with secret identities and shady data-stealing Government initiatives. You can't exactly go out speed-dating, even if you wanted to.'

Steve blinks at her. 'I don't, really,' is all he can think of to say to that. 

'I still have six months left on my appointment in Tromso,' she says. 'And then I'll need a couple of weeks to wrap stuff up there before I can start here. But starting next April, I'll be an employee of Stark Industries on a consulting contract with S.H.I.E.L.D. Figure out with Thor how you guys are gonna work this relationship between you, and keep me posted. You have my email, right?'

'I'm supposed to _email_ you about this?' Steve asks, slightly overwhelmed. He means to point out that Tony almost certainly reads everything Steve does on the computer, but before he can she winks at him. 

'I wouldn't mind details,' she says, and pecks him on the cheek before getting up. 'I've got to go - flight to catch, you know.' She smiles at him again. 'Don't worry about it, Steve. Really. There'll be a way we can work this out to suit all of us. There always is.'

She'll fit in here, Steve thinks. She goes at problems head-on, and she feels unflappable, like she'll take all kinds of things in her stride, which is an important character trait if you're going to live in the tower. All in all, the only thing that could go wrong is if she and Thor have a falling-out. Living together, working together, _being_ together - Steve's seen friendships he thought were solid as a rock, back at camp, devolve into the worst kind of fights when out on patrol or at the front. 

Jane's clearly very generous, but sometimes things don't go according to plan. Maybe it'll be best for everyone if Steve does his best not to need the kind of help Thor wants to give him. He just has to keep himself disciplined.

This doesn't have to be a big deal.

***

Steve always tries to imagine every battle like a map. He's good at maps.

Their firebug from a couple of weeks ago is back. This time, the streets are jammed with rush-hour traffic, and in all the yelling and the falling winter dusk, Steve can't see half his teammates. His mental map is full of blanks and minefields and Here Be Dragons. 

Somewhere in the sky is Iron Man, and bless Tony's inability to keep his mouth shut. He's keeping a constant stream of information coming over the comm., filling in the gaps in Steve's knowledge of where they are and what's going on. Bruce is back at the tower, running through reams of data on fire patterns and arson sprees and occasionally dropping in his own observations.

Clint's up high, looking for their enemy. He calls out things he thinks are important as he sees them, and Steve begins to be able to triangulate - civilians heading north, some kind of unholy, black-smoking chaos two blocks east of them. Massing black clouds to the south give Steve some hope that Thor's making good on his promise of rain.

Beside Steve, Natasha is doggedly reloading her pistols. 'That can't be good,' she comments, cocking an eye at the billowing, oily black smoke heading their way. Holstering one pistol and keeping hold of the other, she starts towards it. 'I'm going to check it out.'

 _'Someone's coming out from that fire east of you'_ says Clint at that moment over the comm. _'Someone big. They're armed. Black Widow, if you're going, take backup.'_

Steve hitches the shield up over his shoulder. 'That would be me,' he says. Natasha nods at him and darts off, knowing he'll follow. He does, but keeping up with her is something else. Watching Natasha fight is always an education, too. She ducks and weaves and kicks in ways Steve probably couldn't even manage, the size he is, but just watching the way she uses her opponents' weight against them is an opportunity to learn. 

The smoke is encroaching on them as they head towards it - spreading from street to street. From the smell of it, a deli or a butchery or something has caught fire - the air reeks of burnt meat. Steve keeps having to stop and pull people out of hidey-holes and send them back towards clearer air, so Natasha gets ahead of him pretty fast. 

When he catches up, she's toe-to-toe with a man twice her size and carrying a flame-thrower. For the unarmoured Black Widow, that's a problem. Steve watches her for a second, sizing up when is going to be the moment to pile in and help. She's practically dancing around her opponent, barely seeming to land a single blow - until Steve spots where she's aiming. 

She's taking out the _flamethrower_. And the man tangled up in it is too big and too, well, tangled up in it, to do anything about it. The next time he thinks he's got a shot at Natasha, all that happens is there's a wheezing, spitting noise, and then Steve steps in and punches him in the face. 

Black Widow's moved on already - more shapes, coming up out of the smoke from a subway entrance - and the man with the flamethrower is down but not out. He reels from Steve's blow but comes back up fighting, already dropping his useless contraption and ducking the next punch. 

Steve's brawling in the gutters with him when the rain comes, heavy, fat droplets that make the streets and buildings start to hiss rather than crackle with fire. The inferno's taken hold a little too well for the cloudburst to put it out immediately though. Steve takes a solid hit to the chest and isn't set right to deflect it, and stumbles. 

'Where's your discipline, _Captain_?' asks the firebug. 'I thought you were a Lehigh man.'

 _That_ makes Steve pause, just for a moment, and the firebug charges in, lays a couple of punches on Steve before he can get his arm back in to block. He's wearing old fatigues, charred and smudged, but recognisable. Something cold settles in Steve's gut.

'You're a soldier?' Steve asks, blocking and ducking. 

'Marines,' says the firebug, still fighting like he thinks he has a chance. He coughs, and spits viciously. 'Semper fi,' he adds bitterly. 'I guess here's the part where you tell me I'm a disgrace to my shiny uniform.'

'No,' says Steve, and lands one more punch, sweet and textbook, to the firebug's jaw. 'Here's the part where I tell you you're a disgrace to humanity.'

The man goes down. He doesn't get up. 

Natasha is bundling another guy up the subway steps, his hands twisted behind his back. The rain keeps coming down. 

Over the comm., Tony reports that the traffic flow has improved, that emergency services are on their way, that he's coming in to land and does anyone need anything? Medical help? A cheeseburger, since he's going to be sending Happy out for one? Bruce says that the heat signature of the fire on the satellite feed is dropping away, the rain is doing its job. Clint declares the all-clear after another couple of minutes.

With what almost sounds like a clang, Thor comes back down to earth from wherever it was that he was summoning the storm. He looks at Steve. 

Steve is still looking at the man he's laid out. 

'Captain?' says Thor. He puts a hand on Steve's shoulder. 

Steve shrugs him off. 'Call the car,' he tells Tony, who's just landed and is taking his helmet off. 'No. Wait. First call the police.' They should know why they don't have a suspect any more.

'What happened to this one?' Natasha asks. She kneels, puts her fingers to the man's throat looking for a pulse Steve knows she isn't going to find. 

'Me,' says Steve, and pulls his cowl off, closing his eyes and turning his face up to the sky and the cold rain.

***

The police, essentially, tell Steve not to do it again if he can possibly help it. The detective who speaks to him makes him a cup of watery, milky brown coffee that tastes exactly how it used to on the front, and tells him furtively that she understands. She'd have done the same herself, if she could. But she carries a gun, Steve thinks. She really could kill criminals if she wanted to. The difference is, she doesn't. She carries the gun, but she has the control not to use it. It's just a weapon to her.

Their ex-marine firebug left enough of a paper trail and enough associates that someone's going down for this, at least. Steve hands the whole thing over to the police. His work - the Avengers' work - is done on this one. He walks back to the tower from the police station because he needs time to think. 

He takes a detour. He still has the key to the side door of his old gym on his keyring. 

It's quite hard for Steve to get his knuckles to bleed. He boxes a lot and besides, he has the whole healing factor thing, thanks to the serum. Nevertheless, by the time he's panting, every blow is leaving a red smear on the leather of the punching bag. 

Steve pulls every punch. The bag jerks, doesn't swing. Steve doesn't let it. And every perfectly pulled punch makes him ask, why didn't you do it then? When you needed to? When you had another human being at the end of your reach, why didn't you pull back?

He deserved it. 

That doesn't make it right. 

'I feared I would find you here,' says Thor from the doorway. Steve isn't surprised.

'Have you come to comfort me again?' Steve asks bluntly, through his teeth, every word connecting with a blow to the bag. 

'I have come to stop this foolishness,' says Thor, and he grabs Steve by the shoulder, one-handed, stopping the bag with the other. As a casual display of strength it's almost breathtaking, if Steve had any breath left to take. 'You act as if you had never killed a man before, when I know that you have. And that man was a murderer and a destroyer of homes and livelihoods. Why must you tear yourself up over the death of one so unworthy?'

He lifts one of Steve's sluggishly-bleeding hands and inspects it. 'And if you are called upon to fight with us again tomorrow?' he asks. 'Will you do so injured?'

'It'll heal,' says Steve. 'And I'm not tearing myself up. I'm …'

He doesn't have an explanation, or at least, not one Thor will accept. Saying it was practice was weak to start with. Steve doesn't know, and he isn't going to lie, so he just meets Thor's eyes as levelly as he can, and shrugs. 'You fret like a stallion on a lead-rein,' says Thor, when Steve doesn't finish. 'You have battle-fever still, my brother, and guilt besides.'

He steps right into Steve's space then, and the way he pulls them together means Steve can feel the way his heart is racing. 'You are not the only one.'

Steve swallows hard. 

'Will you deny me once more?' Thor asks. 'Will you deny yourself?'

Steve has no more reasons left. 

Thor tastes of rainwater, when Steve kisses him, and they're still standing pulled together so Steve can feel Thor get hard against him. He doesn't know what to do with his hands; they graze up and down the sides of Thor's body, flutter at his neck, hold loose at his hips like Steve isn't even really in control of them, until Thor takes his own hands from where they're cradling Steve's jaw and takes Steve's wrists, holds them together, and presses them into Steve's breastbone. It's a block between them but not much of one, and Thor cranes past to kiss Steve again, one hand clamped around Steve's wrists, the other curving down over his ass, intentions clear. 

Steve can't move, and his head swims for a moment. For once, his body's lax, his mind's not shouting at him in Colonel Phillips' voice. They part for breath and Thor lets go, but Steve doesn't move his hands. _Please_ he thinks a little breathlessly to himself, willing Thor to get it, even though he's only just got it himself. _Please understand._

Narrowing his eyes and licking his lips, Thor asks. 'Is this what you need?' and Steve's gut unknots.

He looks down. 'I made all the wrong calls today,' he says. 'I need - I need to not be in charge, for a while, I think.'

And Thor pushes him against the wall, just like that, as if it's that easy, and pins Steve's hands above his head with one of his own, and smiles like gentle, slow sunlight, and says, 'I can do that for you, my brother,' all deep and dark with emotions Steve can't unravel yet.

Steve loses his pants, his underwear, his shirt, all without moving a muscle of his own, not that he could - Thor has him strung up tight one-handed, gets him naked with the other. Thor's thigh wedges itself between Steve's knees, high enough that Steve's feet won't stay flat on the ground, and that noise - Steve made that noise. Thor grinds against him and Steve makes it again, a gasp or maybe a moan, forced out of him by pressure and sudden need. 

Steve shuts his eyes, rolling into Thor's hands. He realises that with Thor's thigh jammed between his legs, his knee is rubbing at Thor, it's what's making Thor's breath come in hot huffs against Steve's neck, so he pushes up a little more, to give him something at least. 

'Let go, Steven,' says Thor, rumbling into the muscles of his neck. 'Let it go.' And Steve gets the oddest sense that Thor's not talking to him any more, or not just to him. 

He angles up again for a kiss, and he says, before he can think better of it, 'Tell me.'

Thor turns away again, burying his face back in Steve's neck. So Steve pulls back just a little, just enough to force Thor to look him in the eye. 'Tell me,' he says, putting a bit of his commander's tone into it, the one he learnt off Phillips and a little off Peggy. 'Come on, Thor, who was it? It's not Jane, so who is it?' He keeps grinding up and in, because he doesn't think Thor wants him to stop and he doesn't think he _can_. It's taking all his resolve not to go loose and let Thor keep pushing this the way he wants, but he feels like he has to ask, like the answer is important. 

'Let me help you,' says Steve, almost panting because he can't _move_ and he can't _think_ and God, he wants to just go with it but Thor is hurting. 'Tell me what's wrong.'

'Peace, brother, I beg you,' Thor growls, grinding harder, his face still shuttered tight, his hair falling in front of his eyes, and he clamps tighter around Steve's wrists and bulls right in until there's no space between them, just a flat plane of heat and sweat. 

Brother. Oh. Oh damn …

'Thor -' But Thor doesn't let him say another word and to be honest, Steve doesn't know what other words he could say. His body's tight with need and his mind's frozen, remembering all the hours of footage of the battle with the Chitauri that he had to review for debriefing, remembering the Stark Tower surveillance that captured Thor and Loki on the tower, and no, Thor never did stop calling him that, not even when ...

 _Brother_ \- but what was Bucky to you, Steve, if he wasn't your brother? 

Like he wants to drive the memories out of both of them, Thor kisses him then, hungry and forceful and unstoppable, his hand snaking between them. He's brutal with it now, stronger than Steve, and Steve lets him do it and likes it, craves it. The memories do fall away, Loki and Bucky both, as Thor strips at Steve's self-control, but it's the feel of Thor himself letting go against Steve's skin that sets him off for good. 

It takes them a while to put themselves back together. Steve doesn't know how long. They're wet with sweat and other things, and when their panting has slowed, and Thor carefully lets Steve's wrists go, he rests his head on Steve's shoulder. 

'Forgive me,' he says hoarsely, after a moment. 'It is hard to let go, sometimes.'

'It's okay,' says Steve, settling his arms around Thor's waist and noting vaguely that his scraped knuckles have already started to heal. 'It's okay.'

And that's the thing, Steve realises. It is. All of this. It actually is okay.

***

_To: Dr Jane Foster  
From: Steven Rogers _

_Dear Dr. Foster --_

'Email me,' Jane had said. As if 'Dear Dr Foster, I hope you are well, today your boyfriend pushed me up against a wall and did wicked things to me because I was having a bad day,' was any kind of a sane thing to be sending someone. But she told him to email her. Keep her posted, was her choice of words, and so Steve feels like not doing so would actually be cheating on her.

He squares up to the keyboard again, and sighs, and deletes two words, adds a new one.

_Dear Jane --_

Dear Jane, how's the research going, thank you for - God, no.

Steve thumps himself mentally, and starts typing again. This isn't a job application. Just say what you're thinking, Steve, he tells himself. Just say what you mean. She'll understand.

_Dear Jane,_

_You said to keep you posted, so I am. Although, for the record, I'm still expecting you to want to slap me, at the very least._

_This is a very difficult letter to write, you know._

_You've probably guessed why I'm writing it at all, at least, so that saves me from having to write that down. You can laugh. I'd laugh. Tony thinks I'm hilariously repressed, I think. I just wish he'd have a bit of dignity for once in his life._

_I don't know what Thor's told you, or going to tell you. I suppose we need to have a conversation about what this is at some point. But what I think it is is helping each other out, like you said. That's it. He's helping me through some stuff. And I'm trying to help him._

_I'm lucky to have my friends, all of you._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Steve Rogers._

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be the shallowest of PWP fics with an eye-candy pairing. I entertained hopes of strong attractive burly men doing energetic things to one another. I didn't expect … this. Whatever it is.


End file.
